THE ELEPHANT TRAIN.
That overland journey of more than eight hundred miles by elephant train
is well worth describing, yet it has so little real bearing upon this
story that I shall pass it over as briefly as possible.
In spite of our fears, Mai Lo treated us with great respect during this
journey, and the escort showed us the same consideration that they did
the mandarin.
Elephant riding isn’t at all disagreeable when you get used to the
swaying motion, and as we were sailors we quickly accustomed ourselves
to the amble of the big beasts. But to ride day after day is decidedly
tedious, and we were glad whenever a halt was called and we could
stretch our legs.
During the first stage of our journey, which was through a densely
settled country, we made little more than thirty miles a day. But when
we reached Min-Kwa, which is on a shallow tributary of the Yang-tse, we
exchanged our elephants for horses—fine, spirited beasts—which enabled
us to make much better time.
We now headed directly northwest, on a beeline from the Himalayas, and I
noticed that as we proceeded not only the character of the country but
that of the people changed. The placid, indifferent countenances of the
peasants were replaced by darker, fiercer features; for here were the
descendants of the Tartar horde that once over-ran and conquered the
Chinese. Also the women, instead of being small and insignificant in
appearance, and mild and docile in character, were handsome, powerful
creatures whose every action displayed energy and grace. I could not
help admiring them, although their glances denoted bitter hatred of the
foreigners—a feeling common throughout the Empire.
The broad, smooth road—a magnificent thoroughfare, that would shame the
best of our American boulevards—sometimes lay through dense forests of
splendid trees, and again twined its way amid groves of bamboo; but
usually we passed through fields that were under cultivation. It
surprised me to observe the perfection of utility that pervaded the
country on every hand, until I remembered that here was the most ancient
civilization in the world. There were no waste places; the numerous
population demanded that every acre be cultivated. Stately walls of
excellent construction are used to divide the land, instead of the frail
fences we set up, and the bridges over dry streams or gullies would
excite the envy and admiration of our modern engineers. All the land
required irrigation, and Mai Lo informed me during one of our
conversations that the system of irrigation now employed dated back more
than two thousand years, and was still so satisfactory that it could not
be improved upon.
“When America adopts our plan,” said the mandarin, “irrigation will be a
success there; but not before. I have seen your methods, and they are
very imperfect.”
Chinese fruits were plentiful and cheap. Six big, delicious pears could
be purchased for one cash—about one-tenth of a cent; and bunches of
finger-shaped grapes as big as one’s head we bought for two cash. Mai Lo
kept us well supplied with fruit, and indeed we fared luxuriously
throughout the entire journey. Always at night the mandarin selected a
native house and turned the inhabitants out that we might use it for our
own accommodation. I suppose his authority as a governor allowed him to
do such arbitrary things, for even the fierce Tartars humbly submitted
to his will. Sometimes we passed the night at villages, where there may
be always found comfortable inns; but wherever we slept Nux and Bryonia
by turns guarded the slumbers of us three Americans, while the withered
little imp of a Chinaman who rode with Mai Lo upon his elephant
performed the duty of guarding the mandarin. Mai Lo seemed to trust us
as little as we trusted him, yet we all realized it would be folly to
come to open warfare at this time.
If anything happened to us, it would not be until we were at Kai-Nong;
we were quite sure of that. So, for the present we slept as placidly as
if on board our own beautiful _Seagull_.
Only one disagreeable incident occurred in this portion of our journey.
Sometimes, when we camped early, our native escort amused themselves
with games; perhaps to restore their circulation after long periods of
riding. The most popular of these games was one called “shipsu.” In
playing it two men had to grasp tightly a short bamboo rod with both
hands and then try to throw one another without releasing hold of the
bamboo. Any trick was allowable in this novel wrestling-match except
taking the hands from the bamboo, and it was therefore a
rough-and-tumble in which strength and skill were required. Usually our
men played shipsu among themselves, but one evening in an inn yard where
we were all watching the game, surrounded by a throng of villagers, a
sturdy Manchu offered to cope with one of Mai Lo’s men and the challenge
was accepted.
The struggle was long and interesting, and the combatants jostled the
bystanders by abrupt turns and side leaps. Finally the Manchu hurled his
antagonist to the ground, causing him to release his hold of the rod.
With a shout of victory the Manchu whirled the rod above his head and
then, happening to find himself near Bryonia, our tall South Sea
Islander, who had been silently looking on, the fellow struck him a
deliberate blow upon his head. Bry’s fist shot out and the Manchu went
sprawling upon the ground, while a roar of rage went up from the
bystanders. Knives glistened all around us and our Chinese escort
promptly surrounded our little party and faced the natives expectantly.
But Mai Lo waived his hand, and to my astonishment the escort melted
away and left our black to face his enraged enemies alone.
“Why did you do that, Mai Lo?” I demanded, angrily, while the natives,
perhaps suspecting some trick, hesitated to attack Bry.
“Your man has committed a crime; he must die, and perhaps the other
black will die with him,” replied the governor, calmly.
While I stood dumfounded at this assertion I heard Joe say:
“Be careful, Mai Lo. Archie is behind you with his revolver pointed at
your head. If anyone lays hands upon our black it will be the signal for
your own death.”
Mai Lo did not look around. He did not shrink or pale or display fear.
But he promptly waved his hand again and the escort once more closed
around us.
Then the governor addressed the crowd in Chinese, and talked volubly for
a long time. In a language where it requires two hundred syllables to
say “good morning” it is probable that Mai Lo’s address was brief and to
the point; anyhow, the sullen crowd melted away and left us alone, and
soon after we entered the inn and went to bed.
The incident was not referred to again on either side, but it proved to
us how readily the governor was prepared to sacrifice any members of our
party, and so weaken our numbers, and it warned us to be constantly upon
our guard. I did not doubt but that Mai Lo had some plan in mind to
circumvent us when we got to Kai-Nong, and doubtless he was confident of
success; but we refused to be panic-stricken.
“It looks as if we were in the dragon’s jaws,” remarked Archie, one day,
with a yawn.
“I don’t mind that,” replied Joe, “if we can keep the dragon from
biting.”
“Nor I. But sometimes it looks dubious to me. We’re about fifteen
hundred miles in the enemy’s country, and the world has lost all track
of us. Perhaps——”
“Perhaps, what?” I asked, impatiently.
“Perhaps the noble physician was wise, after all.”
“Look here, Archie. What’s the use of crying before you’re hurt?”
“It’s my only chance,” said he, with a grin. “If Mai Lo gets his work
in, I shan’t be able to howl.”